


One Last Stand

by fictionalinfinity



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: A Servant of Two Masters, Attempted Murder, Character Death, Episode: s04e06 A Servant of Two Masters, Gen, Mentions of suicidal thought, Suicide, This is really sad, Whump, i mean why did i think of this, prepare to cry, we'll never know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-09 12:17:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20994680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalinfinity/pseuds/fictionalinfinity
Summary: The entire journey is agonizing. The joy in Arthur’s voice strikes him like a dagger every time he speaks, and all Merlin wishes to do is cry out and tell him that this happiness is false. That his life is in danger. That Merlin is going to kill him.





	One Last Stand

**Author's Note:**

> this is really sad ngl  
enjoy!!! or not. that's up to you.

Merlin is completely and utterly aware of the fomorroh. Despite not having control of his motor skills, he can see and hear everything. He can feel the evil intentions of the creature the moment it passes through his skin and it makes his flesh crawl.

Merlin wants to die. He will do anything if it means Arthur will live. 

He pulls his magic deep into himself, desperate to keep it away from the fomorroh’s clutches. Merlin can sense the displeasure from the serpent and allows himself the small victory. Perhaps he will eventually be able to regain full control. Little steps, he decides. Little steps. 

Despite being one step closer to the creature’s mission, Merlin is relieved to be away from Morgana. Her cold eyes and chilling smile irk him, reminding him of the woman she used to be. Of the woman he’d destroyed. 

During his entire trek through the forest, Merlin rails on the creature’s power. He slams what seems to be metaphorical fists onto the barrier, but dare not use him magic. He fears that the serpent will grab on and not let go. 

The effort is exhausting. Merlin yearns to let his magic go freely. He’s never felt so exhausted in his life. At least Arthur isn’t there, he thinks. That is a small consolation. 

He speaks too soon. As the creature uses Merlin’s limbs to break through the foliage, both he and the fomorroh spot Arthur in the same moment.

_ No.  _

_ Oh, yes,  _ the fomorroh replies, somehow echoing within his own consciousness.  _ The king is ours. Be sure to count his breaths, little warlock, for there are not many left.  _

“I thought we’d lost you!” Arthur laughs, walking over to him.  _ I wish you had,  _ Merlin thinks. He can’t protect Arthur now. 

Merlin feels himself be pulled into Arthur’s embrace and wants so desperately to melt into it. The fomorroh laughs in his head, mocking him.  _ Maybe I’ll let you hold him as he dies, little warlock,  _ the fomorroh taunts,  _ and you can see the betrayal in his eyes.  _

Merlin roars at the statement, pounding harder against the barrier, and just for a moment he feels a full control of his senses again. Heaving in air sharply, he cries out as the fomorroh regains power. 

Arthur’s body stiffens against him. Merlin begins to sob, but the creature wearing his body betrays none of those emotions. 

“You alright, mate?” Gwaine asks from atop his horse. The creature doesn’t miss a beat. 

“I’m fine,” it replies, “just my shoulder, that’s all,” it explains, and Arthur pulls back in surprise.

“Your shoulder! How could I have forgotten? Let me see,” the king demands, and Merlin feels a tendril of hope. Morgana had healed his shoulder and if Arthur were to see, he’d know something was off. 

The creature shakes his head. “It’s alright, really. I’d really rather just let it be. I’m sure Gaius has a remedy that’ll cure me of the pain.”

Arthur and Gwaine look dubious but say no more. Merlin once more feels his hope plummet. 

His attempt to break through the barrier and maintain control has shown Merlin just how difficult this is going to be. In fact, it feels near impossible. Feeling too tired to fight anymore, Merlin retreats further into himself and tries to find a semblance of rest. 

_ What a good little warlock. Perhaps you can learn after all. _

_ _

* * *

The entire journey is agonizing. The joy in Arthur’s voice strikes him like a dagger every time he speaks, and all Merlin wishes to do is cry out and tell him that this happiness is false. That his life is in danger. That Merlin is going to  _ kill  _ him. 

Gwaine tries to jest with him, but the creature’s replies are cold and rude. Merlin prays that it will be enough to tip of either of his companions, but both of them just glance at each other and look at him with pity. As if they are sure he is just tired from his ordeal and merely lashing out as a result. 

Merlin feels the absence of his magic strongly. Keeping it suppressed from the fomorroh means he has no access to it either, and it is like being cut off from his life force. He drifts out of awareness often throughout the journey, only to be welcomed back by the cruel laughter of the creature each time. 

The next time he ‘awakes’, Merlin is surrounded by the knights who had accompanied Arthur at the round table. He is still atop Gwaine’s horse, though Gwaine is already on the ground. They seem to be in the citadel, but Merlin feels no relief. Not while Arthur is in danger. 

“Need a hand, Merlin?” Elyan asks, placing a warm hand against his knee. Merlin flinches in shock. 

Merlin  _ feels  _ the hand. He no longer feels like a prisoner in his mind. The realization is so startling that he jumps up in the saddle, only to find himself falling off, head aiming straight for the stone beneath. 

“Merlin!” Someone shouts, but he is in too much of a daze to recognize who. 

The knights cry out in shock and scramble to catch him, only to be too late. Merlin’s skull crashes into the floor, but before everything goes black, he hears a voice. 

_ It’s fun to see you fail, little warlock. _

* * *

When consciousness comes to him, he is once again trapped. The magic is still suppressed, which he is thankful for. Merlin does not want the fomorroh anywhere near his powers. Until something changes, though, he and the creature are at an impasse.

The fomorroh will need Merlin’s magic to kill the king. Merlin will die before letting that happen.

_ And so you shall, little warlock,  _ a voice says suddenly. Merlin startles, having forgotten he is not alone in his own mind.  _ Did you not think this would kill you? What a fool you are. Your magic is your life force. Without it, you shall perish. So what shall it be? _

_ Will you let your magic free and try to take control, taking the risk that I could steal your power and kill the king, or will you die and leave him brokenhearted? _

Merlin’s stomach twist at the options. Hopefully he will discover a third option of his own making before the other two can become a reality, but the chances are slim. If this is not possible…

Well, a mourning Arthur is better than a dead Arthur, isn’t it?

“Ah, Merlin! You’re awake!” Gaius welcomes in surprise, peering down at him. “How do you feel, my boy? You had quite the fall, according to the knights. They burst into my chambers all afright,” Gaius raises an eyebrow in the way he always does, and Merlin wishes he could relish in the comfort of the man. Instead, all he knows is the dread pooling in the pit of his stomach. 

“I’m alright, really, Gaius,” the creature replies, moving to sit up and rest on his elbows. “No damage done, truly,” it assures him. 

“Oh, I doubt that, my boy. A blow to the head can be quite dangerous as you very well know.”

“Trust me, Gaius. I used my magic when I was falling to prevent any harm. I just passed out,  _ that’s all,”  _ the creature tells Gaius, but his voice contains no warmth. Gaius looks taken aback but doesn’t say anything more about a possible concussion. 

Merlin knows the fomorroh is lying, for he can feel the throbbing in his head. He most certainly has a concussion, but the serpent doesn’t want anything in his way of killing Arthur. 

“Arthur also mentioned you were hit by a mace on your collar, but I found no such evidence. Mind telling me what happened there?” Gaius asks instead, and Merlin can feel the creature bristling with annoyance. 

“The bandits had a sorcerer and they didn’t want me dying before they could figure out what to do with me, so he healed me. I got away before the fools ever figured out a plan,” the fomorroh writes the healing by Morgana off, but Gaius doesn’t seem to buy it. 

“Why didn’t you use your magic to escape before now? Surely you didn’t just sit there and let them keep you prisoner,” Gaius poses, and Merlin knows the fomorroh is about to rear its ugly head. 

“Gods, Gaius! Can’t you just be glad I’m back safe and sound?!” The fomorroh lashes out, and Merlin winces in his head. He is going to have a hard time re earning people’s trust. If he ever gets control of himself again, that is…

Gaius looks mildly surprised, raising another eyebrow at him. “Alright, then,” he says quietly before walking out of his room, shutting the door behind him. Merlin wants to shout out in frustration, if only his voice will let him. 

Without anything else to keep him occupied, Merlin tries to rail against the fomorroh’s defences once more.  _ You can’t do this!  _ He cries, using all his might to press on the creature’s influence over him. 

_ Oh, but I can, little warlock. Soon enough you won’t be around to fight it anymore.  _

Merlin grits his teeth at the statement. Well, he would have if he actually had control over teeth. He is really starting to get sick of this whole ‘no body’ thing. He has to hope that someone will notice before it is too late. 

Darkness begins to overwhelm him once more, and no matter how much he fights it, he can not help but be overcome by it. Without his magic, he is losing strength rapidly. The fomorroh was right. He is  _ dying.  _

* * *

The fomorroh must really like playing games with him, for the next time Merlin wakes it is to see his own hands poisoning the king’s food. He fights harder than before, kicking and screaming against the mental restraints. 

Merlin continues to fight as the creature leads his body down the many winding halls of the castle towards Arthur’s chambers.  _ No! No, please!  _ He cries, feeling the sensation of tears without the actual thing. He wants to gain control for just a moment, even if all he can do is toss the food out of the window before that  _ thing  _ regains control, but there is no such luck. He is carried as a prisoner to watch his dear king meet his fate. 

They reach the door and the thoughts of  _ no, no, no, nononONONO  _ pounds in his head. The serpent opens the door, tray in hand, and then Merlin sees him.

Arthur. His precious Once and Future King. He sees the sunlight reflects on his golden hair, and he’s smiling, and most amazingly,  _ alive.  _ Merlin is desperate to keep him that way. 

The desperation is so life consuming that it fills him with raw power for just a moment.  _ Damn you,  _ Merlin thinks and leaps over the barriers put in place by the fomorroh. He relishes in the feeling of all of his limbs, of the slight breeze on his cheeks, and the sun on his skin. But then, it all goes wrong. 

The fomorroh attacks him with the ferocity of a thousand serket stings and the warlock drops the tray, overcome with agony. He’s pleased to note that the tainted food crashes into the ground and goes flying, no longer salvageable, but it’s the last coherent thought he can form. 

Merlin’s head is threatening to split, and he clutches at it like a lifeline, pulling at his hair like it will keep him from losing it all. 

“Merlin!” A voice calls, but he’s so far gone he can’t recognize who. 

_ You think you can beat me, little warlock?!  _ The fomorroh roars, and Merlin screams out loud and falls to his knees before he’s finally cut off from the world. 

_ You will pay,  _ the serpent growls.  _ Mark my words, you will pay. _

The fomorroh begins its attack anew, bashing into his very being again and again, and Merlin’s head spins. He wants to be sick and shrink away, but there is nowhere to hide from the creature. It’s like his soul is on fire, all the while he’s being laughed at. 

Merlin is only vaguely aware of Arthur on his knees in front of him, shaking him and begging for a reply. Gwen is there too and she’s crying, but Merlin’s body remains lifeless and unmoving. 

Then it’s like the fomorroh suddenly remembers that it has a part to play. It redirects some of its efforts against him towards maintaining a conversation with the king and his beloved, but while the pain lessons, it does not end. 

“I’m...I’m okay,” it says, acting as if it really was Merlin suffering some accident. “I don’t know what came over me,” it continues, looking up to meet Arthur’s eyes. Arthur looks very doubtful. 

“You looked  _ afraid,  _ Merlin! You came in here and without a warning you were suddenly on the floor screaming! For that matter, what were you even doing up and out of bed?!” he demands, and Merlin just wants to cry. Arthur himself looks afraid, and it hurts Merlin to know that he cares so much. 

“I promise, I’m fine. I think I was hit with a wave of dizziness and I thought I was in the bandits’ camp once more. I...I’m sorry,” the fomorroh apologizes pitifully, and Guinivere looks so saddened by it. Arthur looks guilty. 

“Okay,” Arthur sighs, but it’s rough and unsteady. “Let’s get you back to bed. I don’t want to see you again for another day at least,” he warns, raising an eyebrow, and Merlin is relieved. Another day to try and figure a way out of this. That is  _ good.  _

_ Oh, no, I don’t think so,  _ the fomorroh says, and Merlin cringes away from it.  _ I have not forgotten that stunt you pulled, little warlock. Your suffering is nothing in comparison to what is to come.  _

Merlin has forgotten. If he is confined to his chamber, that means the fomorroh is confined as well. He will have no time to focus on a plan, for the pain will be too consuming. He deflates once more, dreading the hours to come. Why can’t I die already? he thinks.

Arthur gently guides him toward Gaius’ chambers, an unusual action for the man. Usually he is so rough and callous, but the king seems genuinely shaken by what has transpired. Merlin is surprised, and wishes he could relish in the softer side of the man, but there is no such chance. 

The pain starts up again, worse than before. It’s like nothing he’s ever experienced, and not for the first time, he wishes for death. It really would have been better if Morgana had killed him in that wretched hut. Arthur may have never found him in the end, but at least he wouldn’t be killed by his own servant. Dare he say,  _ friend.  _

There’s a moment of clarity in the pain when Merlin realizes that he is once more in his bed and the king has slipped away. He yearns for the company, desperate not to be left alone with this creature, but no such kindness comes. Rather, the pain intensifies and he is gone again. 

* * *

It continues like that for days, and Merlin is not sure which is worse. The never ending torture from the fomorroh and lack of his magic (which is most certainly killing him. There’s not much of him left. The only consolation is that if he dies, so will the fomorroh.) or all the botched attempts on Arthur’s life. 

Gwen and Gaius have begun to watch him curiously, which pleases him a little in the moments where he can feel something other than pain, but nothing has come of it so far. It’s disappointing, to say the least. 

While the fomorroh looks through the armory, Merlin’s at least a little happy. It seems the creature is not as knowledgeable on weapons as it is on mental torture, but that’s neither here nor there. He just hopes it stays that way. 

And then Leon showed up, and it was all downhill from there. Merlin never thought the First Knight could so foolish as to aid someone in attempting to kill the king, but that’s what it had come to. It hurt to see Leon smile and hear his laugh, so trusting of him. 

Merlin had worked to befriend these men for so long, and just when he’d finally done it, he was going to pull the rug out from underneath all of them. He hopes he will die before it comes to that. 

* * *

Merlin can feel it. Today is his last day. Without the magic to support him, he cannot go on. There is a certain urgentness to the fomorroh today, and he laughs. It seems he has won, after all. 

_ The day is not out yet, little warlock,  _ the fomorroh says, sharply reminding him that it is right. Much can happen in a day. He is a fool to think otherwise, but it is a testament to how far gone he really is. 

It isn’t long before the fomorroh tried to make true on his promise, and the little awareness Merlin has gives him the feeling that something horrible is about to happen.

Someone is going to die. He is just not sure of who yet.

Arthur is readying for a knighting ceremony when it happens. The attempt with the crossbow has just failed, and the fomorroh is angry. 

“Elyan, could he be the traitor? My father killed his father. Could you get me my ceremonial sword?” Arthur asks, and Merlin knows what idea enters the fomorroh’s head at those words. 

He mechanically approaches it, all the while Merlin uses his remaining energy to throw everything he has at the barriers, desperate to break through. 

Nothing happens. The creature picks up the sword and admires it, meanwhile Merlin feels sick. He is too weak.

It is a split second decision he makes when he sees the fomorroh aim the sword, ready to charge. It just takes a moment to change a life, after all. 

Merlin lets his magic go. 

He’s too weak to use it to his full advantage, too exhausted to think of anything reasonable, so he just  _ acts _ . Without warning, he takes control of the arm holding the sword, and then-

And then he falls on it. 

Merlin and the fomorroh are too weak to do anything as their now shared body slips to the floor in what seems to be slow motion. His magic tries to heal him, but Merlin pushes it away, sending it back into the earth. Better that he die than risk healing the vessel for the vile creature, he thinks. 

When the magic is all gone, Merlin opens his eyes to realize he is being cradled gently in strong arms. A salty tear that is not his own slips and falls onto his face.  _ Arthur.  _ The fomorroh fights against him, but he will not relinquish control again. These few moments are for Merlin and Arthur alone. 

“Merlin,” Arthur forces out, his voice choked with emotion. The sword is gone from his chest, and the king presses a desperate but useless hand against his chest. Merlin smiles. 

“I’ve missed you,” he whispers, glad that at the end, his words are his own. Arthur frowns, confused and sad. 

“What are you talking about, idiot? I’ve been right here this whole time. I’m not leaving you,” Arthur assures, trying to hide his breaking heart. Merlin tries to laugh but accidentally splatters Arthur’s face with blood. The king does not react at all, except for a few more shed tears. 

“I know, clotpole, I know,” Merlin says, and Arthur smiles sadly at the familiar nickname. 

“You’re going to be just fine, Merlin. We...We’ll get Gaius, and you’ll be...you’ll be back to serving me in no time!” Arthur reassures, sounding hopeful, but his eyes betray him. The king knows what is coming. 

“No, I won’t, Arthur,” Merlin answers and Arthur’s eyes widen. “But you’re going to be.”

“No, Merlin, not… not without you,” the king chokes out, eyes swelling with even more tears. Merlin doesn’t think he’s ever seen him cry this much. 

“You have to,” he says. “Do it for me, please,” Merlin begs, and Arthur nods desperately. 

“I’ll try, I...I promise. But, Merlin-”

“Good, good…” Merlin says, oblivious to anything else Arthur may have said. All he can focus on is the king’s promise and beautiful, sad blue eyes. Those  _ eyes.  _ If this is to be his last view, it is a truly lovely one. 

Arthur is safe, he thinks. 

_ Arthur is safe.  _

That’s enough, he realizes, and Merlin lets the world fade away. 

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked that. kudos appreciated and comments loved :)


End file.
